


Poetry in Motion

by chodemelon



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Budding Love, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9711569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chodemelon/pseuds/chodemelon
Summary: Sometimes, one door must be closed before another can open.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Only warnings that I can think of in this fic are PDA and mentions of bare chests, but let me know if I missed something.

It had all happened so fast. The war had offered Haran no time to think, to stop and rationalize; only to feel and react, and that was just what she had done. 

Rhajat loved her so deeply, so unconditionally, that she had not contemplated their decision long enough to think that the girl may have not thought things through either. That there might be a larger world that she was not aware that she needed to understand.

The first sign was when Rhajat was not, for once waiting at the door for her like an eager puppy. She had come in twenty minutes later, apologizing profusely, holding a book of poetry that Haran did not recognize.

By this point, she knew the ins and outs of Rhajat’s occult library, and the book stood out in a way that the others did not. It was simple, worn, but with etched jasmine flowers twirling up the spine. Rhajat put it on her side of the bed with a tenderness that she reserved for rare spell reagents and stroking the inside of Haran's arm when she thought no one was looking. 

*

“It’s not that I disapprove, Lady Haran. My daughter is more than capable of handling herself, and you are an honorable person.” Hayato had told her in confidence after the two announced their coupling. “She just…has always had an obsessive personality and I worry that she will cling to what she knows until she backs herself into a corner. You are the connection between her world and ours. Please be aware of your influence on her."

Haran had always assumed that advice from the boy-faced diviner was always to be taken with a grain of salt, as he was often so quick to prove his age and credibility that he would make grandiose statements of wisdom that he couldn’t possibly back up. But his words bore into her head that night as Rhajat hugged her tightly under the covers, and it occurred to her that Rhajat talked about little else besides her spells, and about Haran. 

The next morning, she requested that Rhajat help Caeldori and Mitama with kitchen duty, in a sly attempt at getting her to start connecting with others that had similar experiences as her. They understood the circumstances of growing up in another world in a way that Haran did not. Rhajat had looked at her, confused and annoyed, as her lover had previously spared her from the usual military chores so that they could spend more time together. But as always, she did not argue with her. 

 “ _If it will make you happy, Haran_."

 

“How did it go, Rhaj?” Haran asked that evening over tea. Rhajat had shrugged noncommittally but she was smiling softly into her cup. 

“I think I may have made a friend.”

Haran liked Mitama. She was chronically tardy to morning trainings, but she was quick with a staff, even more skilled with a brush, and her brand of sharp wit was much more palatable than her father's. So when she found herself starting to bristle at Rhajat’s constant mentions of Mitama, she wondered if she could really call herself an impartial leader, and a good person. 

Rhajat had tolerated Haran’s constant swarm of people buzzing in and out of her room because she knew that Haran was still a commander, a friend and confidant to others, and she loved the princess more than she hated the awkward gaze off the others who would glance at her in the corner and nod in acknowledgment before starting their conversations with the person they had really come to see.

Though she would never say it, Haran could tell that it drained her emotionally, so against her better judgement, she recommended that Rhajat go spend more time with her new friend while she discussed tactics with her siblings. Rhajat had scoffed and insisted that there was no one who would be better company than her beloved Haran. 

“ _I’ll go, but only if it makes you happy."_

But Mitama was reserved and introspective like Rhajat. The thought of spending hours with one person, inside, with few words exchanged was completely foreign to Haran, but Rhajat would speak enthusiastically about their time together despite her initial reluctance. It seemed odd that two people who were so inclined to be recluses could have such a positive effect on each other, and on their environment. Perhaps it was just further indication that there was something Rhajat needed that Haran could not provide.

To Haran’s surprise, or perhaps to her chagrin, Mitama also seemed happier. She would show up earlier and earlier to training, and her sheets of poetry were quickly becoming scrolls and tomes worth of literature. In the weeks since she had ushered Rhajat away from her side, waves of relief and needles of jealousy begun assaulting her heart in turns, and each ate away at her in equal measures.

A part of her knew that something had to give, and that Rhajat would never make her first step into the unknown without someone helping her. Someone who, unfortunately, often loved Rhajat more than she loved herself. 

Haran was aware that there would never be a right moment to bring it up. Rhajat knew her well, and she could tell that there was something wrong, spending more and more of her time throughout the week trying to care for her, and less with her close friend. She would never dare to ask what was on Haran’s mind, but she would try desperately to coax her with kisses dusting her jaw and sweet condolences whispered in her ears. It was glorious, it was beautiful, and it was wrong.  

“Rhaj, we can’t continue on like this.” 

Haran felt Rhajat’s hands, clutching at her bare back, start to shake as soon as she had uttered the words. She said nothing as she pressed her head into Haran’s chest, and the beginnings of tears on her eyelashes brushed against the princess's collarbone. She knew that Rhajat had feared those words since they shared their first night together, and she reacted immediately.

“What did I do? How can I do better?”

Haran swallowed a heavy lump in her throat and sat up, guiding Rhajat with her so that they were at eye-level in the dark. She cupped the girl’s cheek and stroked it gently, as Rhajat’s eyes bore into her; intense, bewildered, and terrified.

“Nothing, Rhaj. You already have so much to give,” Haran said and moved her hand from Rhajat’s face to her arm, covering it with her own. “I just can’t let you keep yourself from the world on my behalf.”

“I don’t care about the world, Haran, and I don’t care about my so-called potential. I care about you- I want what you want!” Rhajat shouted, a choked sob echoing off the walls. 

Haran wrapped her arms around the other woman and kissed her hair. “I care about you too, Rhaj. I care about you so much it hurts,” she admitted weakly and wiped a tear from the corner of her own eye. "But there is someone out there that will make you happier than I ever can. You’ve spent too much of your life hidden away to stand in someone else’s shadow.”

Rhajat did not need to ask Haran who she was referring to. The silence between the two of them said clearly what Rhajat had been refusing to hear ever since she had spent a certain afternoon, months ago, on kitchen duty. 

“Will this make you happy, Haran?” Rhajat asked reluctantly. 

That sour, jealous part of Haran was beating hard in her chest again. No- it wouldn’t make her happy. It wouldn’t make her feel better, at least not for a long, long time. The thought of coming back to empty walls surrounding a cloyingly quiet room was almost enough to double back and tell Rhajat that she was only making a cruel joke. 

Despite herself, however, Haran could not get out of her head the shy smile that Rhajat would make after she would come home, or the excitement in her voice every time she recounted her day. This was for the best.

“It really will, Rhaj. I want to see you grow in your own, unconventional, Rhajat-y way. And I really don't think you can do it here. ”

Rhajat laughed bittersweetly and wiped away her tears. She looked at Haran pleadingly, and she met her expression with tired eyes.

“Just a little longer, please. Then I promise I will do what you ask.”

Haran considered pushing her away, but she could not deny herself this one last bit of selfishness. “Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, Rhajat.”

*

The next morning, Haran woke up before Rhajat, like she had every morning before. She got herself ready and made to leave, but looked back at the sleeping woman, and walked over to her side. Gently brushing some stray hair from her face, she kissed her forehead, and then turned around, not trusting herself to stay there without doing something she’d regret. She opened the door and shielded her eyes from the oppressive sunlight before stepping out into it and closing the door quietly behind her. 

That evening she had avoided her quarters as long as possible, but the day was a particularly laborious one, and finally fatigue was overtaking her. She sighed as she reluctantly pushed open the door, and found what she had expected: a cold, empty space in front of her. 

But the setting sun was providing a sliver of light that illuminated the table, on which there laid a single piece of parchment. Haran closed the door and lit a lantern, placing it next to the paper. With the aid of the flickering firelight, she could make out three lines in a neat script she vaguely recognized:

 

_Words cannot describe /_ _How thankful I am to you / For setting her free._

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea that's been knocking around in my head based on my experience playing Birthright and s-supporting Rhajat before I got to any of her other supports. 
> 
> I wrote this in a night, so if anything seems off, I missed some typos, or you have any feedback, let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading and pour one out for your lonely neighborhood wlw this Valentine's Day B)


End file.
